Sleep evaded me all night. Between the cursed pain and my thoughts running rampant with plans, all I could do was sit and stare at the slowly dying fire.

Kan’on had reacted with studied indifference, both when I’d told him my guess about the Inculids, and when I’d informed him I would be finding an alternate route to Dormar.

To be fair, he didn’t have an invested interest in anything other than following his Master’s instructions, which meant following me around until he had ‘learned’ enough. On the other hand, he probably viewed everything as a test, even Inculids; the scholarly swordsman types always did.

Since I hadn’t slept, I didn’t have difficulty waking up. I kicked my gear into a semblance of order and stuffed it into my pack. I nudged Jass and Kan’on awake and left to find a place to relieve myself.

By the time I returned, Kan’on stood ready while Jass didn’t look to have moved from his perch by the small fire.

“You’re not coming, are you Jass.”

Jass shook his head. “No, I’ve got a contract. And I’m not a runner.”

He judged me. There was no look of judgement or accusation, but he judged me, nonetheless. I could accept that. It wouldn’t be the first time nor the last or harshest, and he’d shown his character enough that I wouldn’t argue with him. If anything, I admired his stoic acceptance of the situation.

I bid him farewell and good luck. Kan’on followed me as I skirted the larger caravan camp and headed down the main road into town. It was early enough that there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic, but the shops had already opened.

I trudged manfully through the mud, unconcerned about its effects on my boots or old ratty clothing. Kan’on attempted to tiptoe to various dry spots, but ultimately failed and soiled his pretty little boots and the hemming of his pretty little battle robes. He would have looked less our had he been sucking on an actual lemon.

Cold weather gear wasn’t something well stocked this time of year, but I managed to find enough gear and bullied Kan’on into rounding out his outfit. He probably had some ancient technique to resist the cold that his ancestors had passed down for countless generations. Those ancient martial schools always had something like that, something the riff raff beneath them didn’t have access to.

As I stood there in the middle of the street, contemplating my next move and pushing away the pain of the curse trying to urge me to move, I drank in the sounds of the bustle of life; people ran errands, craftsman started their day.

I we approached the edge of town, I tried to soak in as much as possible before I left town to escape the pain and to avoid a drawn-out battle. A family turned onto the road in front of me, two parents with their child out in the morning air going who knew where. The boy would have been my son’s age when he died. Same build, same hair color.

The family stopped to look at something through a store window as I continued my shuffle. The boy turned to look in my direction as Kan’on and I approached, and I blanched. A lightning bolt of pain shot through my chest as I looked at the boy, whose face resembled that of my own son before tragedy struck.

I stumbled, overwhelmed by old pain I had thought long buried, and looked around at the people of the mudhole town I couldn’t even remember the name of, that I probably hadn’t even bothered learning. These people, just regular people, had no idea what was coming and if I just left it to nobles like the Baron or the Count, they’d just get everybody killed.

“Shit.” I stopped and looked at the boy again, at his parents. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave and abandon this place. I sighed and turned to Kan’on.

“Change of plans. I’m staying.”

Kan’on’s just lifted an eyebrow and nodded. I wanted to punch the man. It must be nice to be so certain of your own purpose in the world, so grounded that you were unshakable. I wanted to grab him by the collar and slap him silly until he at least pretended to be shocked or dismayed.

“That’s not saying a lot though. At some point the curse is going to overwhelm me and I’m going to black out and leave no matter how I feel about it. At that point it’s best just to get out of the way, I’ll be completely out of control.”

“I’ll cope with whatever comes. You needn’t worry about it. To me, this is just all part of my journey, it doesn’t matter where we go.”

I scoffed, but mentally switched gears, thinking about how I could best help the Count and the Baron deal with the situation. I immediately stumbled again as the pain of the curse abruptly disappeared. Shocked, I reached for my head as if that would tell me anything.

Something changed. The pain had never gone away once it started, not until I’d traveled a fair distance away from where it began. Not a single time in 20 years had anything about the curse changed. Why now? What was different?

“Kan’on, something has changed. I’m not sure what yet, or how, but things are different.”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t change what needs to be done. There is a lot of fighting ahead.”

I growled at the man, then reigned myself in, practicing patience. He couldn’t possibly begin to understand the significance. Still, he wasn’t wrong. I grunted and turned around.

“Time to go back. But if I’m staying, it’s not going to be as it was. No more messing around.”

###

I marched back into Orleander’s camp as if I had never marched out of it to begin with. Kan’on accompanied me, trailing behind me with his practiced air of aloofness and disinterest, his damn pastel colored battle robes calling attention from every damn direction. He made it impossible to make a dignified re-entrance, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d retraced my steps through my own shit.

Swishing aside the flaps to the pavilion, I spotted Count Orleander sitting at a table with Clyde surrounded by his senior guards, holding a serious discussion. I sauntered up, planned my feet, and crossed my arms.

“I’ve decided to stay,” I declared, heedlessly interrupting their discussion.

Orleander looked at me with tired eyes. The look on his face told me all I needed to know about what he thought about the prospect of me sticking around: another chore to add to his task list. The short span between my departure and return had already worn the man down, and his practiced mask was slipping.

Ms. Black chose that moment to return from wherever she’d run off to, approaching the table and stationing herself behind the count.

“For how long?” Orleander asked.

“For as long as I’m able.” I didn’t bother explaining the change I’d felt while in town.

“Listen here ‘Dash’, we don’t need you, it’s not like you’d stay sober long enough to make a difference anyway. Just go ahead and run away with your tail between your legs like you planned. We’ll handle this.” Clyde, cloddish as ever, decided that today he was a big boy and could join the big boy discussion, or maybe he worked up even more courage since Orleander’s presence effectively protected him, or so he thought.

I kept my eyes on the Count, completely ignoring the oaf. I reached into the Flow, using my little trick to find the space where my cubby existed. It took me a second to find what I searched for, it had been ages since I’d even thought about it after all, and I pulled out a sleek, burnished deepsteel plate armor chest piece and dropped it to the floor.

“Since I’m staying, things are going to change. You’re no warrior Orleander, neither is the Baron, but I won’t hold it against you. As long as I’m here, I’m calling the shots. We’re going to have to organize a defense, and I don’t trust either of you to do it, so I’ll do it.” I reached into my cubby and pulled out another piece of disused armor and dropped it, and another, the pile of armor growing at my feet. Eyes widened. I could feel questions bubbling up between them, but everyone held their tongue.

Count Orleander didn’t say a word, not to refute my claim of authority nor to protest my opinion of his warrior capability. The tired look in his eyes had faded away though, replaced by an alertness, and perhaps small measure of resolve.

I may have misjudged him more than I thought. He threw around his wealth in gross displays, lacked warrior training, and kept questionable retainers, but for all that he didn’t lack a spine. I could appreciate that in a man.

“First, we need to organize a cohesive defense of the town, starting with gathering the towns folk away from the outskirts. Building a physical defense comes next, not a wall or barricade since that won’t stop Carvers, but we’ll figure something out. Clyde, send a runner to the Baron letting him know that we’ll be bringing the caravan and its guards into town.”

“No, you don’t give me orders.”

Without hesitation, I brought to bear my full willpower onto the currents connected to Clyde and smashed them like I’d smash bricks with a sledgehammer. Clyde immediately tumbled to his knees, struggling to breath, planting his hands on the floor to keep from collapsing further. To him it would feel like I’d reached out and snatched away his willpower, the power to make decisions for himself, out of his grasp.

“Make no mistake, Clyde. You will obey. There is no, ‘or else.’ You. Will. Obey.”

Behind the Count, Ms. Black readied her sword, preparing to draw it.

“It’s one thing to waltz around handing out orders,” she said in a raspy, yet still somehow feminine voice,” but another thing entirely to make me obey.”

It was the first time I’d heard her speak, that I could remember anyway. She seemed very confident in her ability to defy me, but it was unwarranted. Perhaps she misjudged who between me and Kan’on was the stronger fighter.

“You couldn’t even beat Kan’on in a spar with the element of surprise, when you had all the advantages you could ask for. You don’t pose even a smidge of a threat to me.”

Beside me, Kan’on let out a short laugh. Horrible timing. Maybe he was still miffed at the whole provocation over dinner incident and wanted another round to spank the poor puppy.

She drew her sword and made to move in my direction but was interrupted.

“Enough! We will do as Duke Altandran instructs us to do, as is his right.” Orleander emphasized ‘Duke’. I grimaced at the title, but if that’s what it took to get past this little incident, fine.

Clyde struggled to his feet, legs shaking, overcoming the residual effects of the bludgeon that was my willpower. He stood up straight and gave me a hateful glare, but kept his mouth shut.

“Go,” I said. “Send word to the Baron to prepare for our arrival.”

Clyde looked to the Count, who didn’t react, then back at me. He glared once again but gave me a cursory bow and left the tent. I thought I heard Ms. Black hiss under her breath, but she made no more moves other than to resheath her sword at her side and post herself back in position.

“Good, let’s talk logistics and defense. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”